Substitute Bride For The Fake Cripple
Grace's engagement to Dillan Hayes was nothing but a cold business transaction to secure funding for her family's company.
But when Dillan violently shoved her into a marble bar over his ex-girlfriend, leaving her bleeding, Grace didn't hesitate.
She called 911, had her fiancé arrested on the spot, and broke off the engagement.
Returning to the Albert estate, she expected chaos, but not absolute betrayal.
Her family didn't care that she had just been physically assaulted.
They were in a sheer panic because her cousin Ashly had just fled the country, abandoning a terrifying arranged marriage.
The groom was Hudson Turner, a man known across Manhattan as a disgraced, violent psychopath, paralyzed from the waist down in a severe crash.
To save themselves from the Turner family's wrath and financial ruin, Grace's aunt and father ordered her to take Ashly's place.
"You eat from this family, you live in this house! It is time you paid us back!"
Her father even threatened to freeze her bank accounts and faked a heart attack to force her compliance.
For three years, Grace had single-handedly kept the family business afloat while they squandered the profits.
Now, they were throwing her to a monster without a second thought, expecting her to rot as a crippled man's miserable nursemaid.
But they picked the wrong sacrifice.
Grace ruthlessly extorted a legal severance from her family, taking her shares and cutting all ties forever.
She walked straight into Hudson Turner's private gallery to propose a mutually beneficial, cutthroat business marriage.
However, when the prenuptial was signed, the "paralyzed" billionaire placed his hands on his wheelchair.
Slowly, deliberately, Hudson stood up to his full, imposing height of six-foot-three.
"The wheelchair is a necessary illusion for my enemies," Hudson stated calmly. "But it will never be an illusion between you and me."
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Chapter 6
Grace pulled her SUV up to the curb outside the Timeless Gallery in Manhattan. The building was an imposing structure of glass and dark steel. She killed the engine, took a deep breath, and pushed open the heavy glass door. Her heels clicked sharply against the polished concrete floor, the sound echoing in the vast, empty space.
A man in a perfectly tailored suit stepped out from the shadows. It was Arthur, Hudson's executive assistant.
"Ms. Albert," Arthur said, giving a polite, measured nod. "Mr. Turner is expecting you. Please follow me."
Grace followed him down a long, dimly lit corridor. The walls were lined with abstract, aggressive pieces of art. Arthur stopped in front of a set of double doors and pushed them open, gesturing for her to enter.
Grace stepped into the private exhibition room. The lighting here was low, focused entirely on the art.
In the center of the room, with his back to her, sat Hudson Turner.
He was in a sleek, high-tech wheelchair, positioned perfectly in front of a massive canvas splashed with dark, chaotic colors.
Hearing her footsteps, Hudson didn't turn around. His voice, a deep, resonant baritone that seemed to vibrate in Grace's chest, broke the silence.
"The artist was manic when he painted this," Hudson murmured. "You can see the desperation in the brushstrokes."
Grace stopped exactly three feet away from him. She didn't care about the art.
"I'm not here to discuss paint, Mr. Turner," Grace said, her voice crisp and professional. "I'm here to resolve the breach of contract caused by my family."
Hudson's hands rested on the wheels of his chair. Slowly, he turned it around.
Grace's breath hitched slightly in her throat.
This was the first time she had seen him up close. The rumors said he was a broken man, but the face looking back at her was anything but broken. He was strikingly handsome, with sharp, aristocratic features and skin slightly pale from lack of sun. But it was his eyes that caught her off guard-they were pitch black, intense, and radiated an overwhelming, suffocating aura of control.
Hudson looked her up and down, a slow, mocking smirk touching his lips.
"The Albert family is truly desperate," Hudson drawled, his tone dripping with condescension. "Sending the girl who just got publicly dumped by the Hayes boy to be my substitute bride. How pathetic."
Grace didn't flinch. She held his gaze, refusing to be intimidated by the heavy pressure in the room.
"My family is pathetic, yes," Grace agreed smoothly. "But I am not here representing them. I am here representing myself."
She walked over to a small glass table, pulled out a chair, and sat down. She opened her briefcase, pulled out a thick, bound business proposal she had finished at 4:00 AM, and slid it across the table toward him.
"I am willing to fulfill the marriage contract in Ashly's place," Grace stated. "But this will not be a punishment or a settlement. This will be an equal business partnership."
Hudson raised an eyebrow. The mocking amusement in his eyes shifted into a spark of genuine curiosity. He wheeled himself closer to the table and picked up the proposal.
"I have analyzed your portfolio," Grace continued, her voice steady. "I know your family stripped you of your operational control in the logistics sector. With my background in supply chain management, I can act as your proxy. I can help you bleed those sectors dry and funnel the assets back into your private holding companies."
Hudson flipped open the folder. His eyes scanned the first page.
"And in return?" Hudson asked, not looking up.
"In return, I get the Turner name," Grace said. "I need absolute protection. I need the Hayes family to know that if they come after me, they are coming after you."
Hudson stopped reading. He looked at the precise, ruthless strategies outlined on the paper. She had accurately identified vulnerabilities in his brother's management that even his own analysts had missed. He felt a sudden, sharp thrill in his chest.
He closed the folder and tossed it back onto the table. He leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms.
"Why would a cripple care about taking back a logistics empire?" Hudson asked, his voice a low, dangerous whisper.
Grace leaned forward, resting her forearms on the table. She looked directly into his dark eyes.
"Because a lion doesn't stop being a predator just because it has a limp," Grace said with absolute conviction. "You aren't done fighting. You're just waiting for the right weapon."
The words struck Hudson with physical force. His heart kicked against his ribs. He stared at the fierce, brilliant woman sitting in front of him, his throat suddenly dry. He swallowed hard, his Adam's apple bobbing.
For a long moment, the room was dead silent.
Then, Hudson threw his head back and laughed. It was a rich, genuine sound that instantly shattered the oppressive tension in the room.
"You have a deal, Ms. Wagner," Hudson said, a predatory gleam in his eye. "But if we are going to play this game, we play it to the end."
He snapped his fingers. Arthur immediately stepped out from the shadows, carrying a leather portfolio.
"We get married today," Hudson demanded. "Right now. At City Hall."
Grace hesitated. Her teeth instinctively grazed her lower lip. Her fingers tightened on the edge of the table as she calculated the risk of moving this fast.
Hudson noticed the micro-expression. He leaned forward, his voice dropping to a taunting whisper. "What's wrong? Are you scared?"
Grace dropped her hand. Her eyes snapped back to his, cold and clear.
"I accept," she said.
Arthur placed a prenuptial agreement and a marriage license application on the table. Grace pulled the prenup toward her. She read through it rapidly. Her brow furrowed. The terms were incredibly generous. It guaranteed her financial independence and explicitly stated that they would maintain separate living quarters. There was no clause demanding physical intimacy.
It was too clean. But she needed the protection now.
She picked up the heavy gold pen and signed her name at the bottom of the page.
Hudson took the pen from her. Their fingers brushed for a fraction of a second. Grace felt a sudden, shocking jolt of static electricity at the contact. Hudson didn't react. He signed his name next to hers with bold, aggressive strokes.
Arthur gathered the papers. "The car is waiting outside, sir. We can head to City Hall immediately."
Hudson turned his wheelchair toward the door. As he passed Grace, he paused.
"A pleasure doing business with you, Mrs. Turner," he murmured.
Arthur stepped out into the corridor to arrange the vehicle, leaving the two of them alone in the dimly lit gallery for a brief moment. Hudson turned his wheelchair back toward her. He looked at the signed prenuptial agreement on the table, then up at Grace. His dark eyes shifted, the mocking amusement completely gone, replaced by a profound, heavy seriousness.
Grace stared at him. The rules of the game had just drastically changed.
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9.7
For three years, I hid my identity as the sole heiress of a multi-billion dollar tech empire to live in a cramped apartment and support my boyfriend, Ben.
But the day before our engagement, I stood outside a meeting room and overheard him talking to his wealthy boss, Haylie.
"She's just a stepping stone," Ben laughed, his voice full of contempt. "A poor, ambitionless distraction while I work my way up to where I really belong."
He mocked the cheap silver ring he gave me, calling it a necessary prop to keep a naive fool happy.
He bragged about the multi-million dollar merger proposal he was presenting, planning to use it to secure his promotion and build a future with her.
He had no idea that I had secretly negotiated that entire deal using my real connections just to give him his big break.
I had sacrificed my family's comfort, my true identity, and my own career just to watch him rise.
I poured my heart and soul into our humble beginnings, only to realize he saw my love as a pathetic joke and me as disposable trash.
I calmly picked up a pen and voided the merger agreement, tearing my hard work into tiny pieces.
I went home, slid the cheap ring off my finger, and dropped it into his mug of cold coffee.
"Soon, you'll find out exactly who is nothing."
Walking out the door, I pulled out my phone and texted my billionaire father.
"I'm in. Announce the merger."
9.2
Jacqueline Blackburn, a desperate Ivy League tutor, walked into the sleazy Veridian VIP club just to save her job.
But her billionaire client, the ruthless Christian Montgomery, mistook her for a cheap escort, blowing cigar smoke in her face and treating her like trash.
When she furiously turned to leave, a drunk former client attacked her in the hallway, tearing her white dress open and pinning her by the throat.
She fought back, stabbing the man's hand with a pen, only for Christian to emerge from the shadows and brutally crush the attacker's bleeding hand under his heel.
Instead of letting her go, Christian draped his heavy suit jacket over her exposed skin, trapped her in his dark suite, and forced her to sign a suffocating contract.
"You have exactly ninety days, or I will personally ensure you cease to exist in my city."
She thought she could just keep her head down, teach his nephew, and survive.
But she didn't understand why this terrifying underground tyrant was suddenly so fixated on her.
Why did he use his immense power to isolate her, publicly claim her at a billionaire gala, and track her every move?
When she received a chilling midnight text demanding she pack her bags and move into his sprawling estate by 8:00 AM, the terrifying reality set in.
She hadn't escaped the wolf. She had just walked directly into his cage.
8.4
Ayleen Avery was just a struggling hotel worker trying to survive her shift. But during a sudden blackout, she accidentally stumbled into the pitch-black VIP suite of a ruthless billionaire driven mad by chronic insomnia.
Calmed only by her unique natural scent of roses and rain, the terrifying man attacked her from the shadows and forced himself on her. Terrified and broken, Ayleen fled at dawn, unknowingly leaving behind her late mother's antique rose necklace in his bed.
Her greedy coworker found the necklace, claimed to be the woman from that night, and was instantly swept into a life of luxury. Meanwhile, Ayleen was blackmailed into a forced marriage with her attacker—Cassius Doyle—to save her adoptive father from prison. Deceived by the stolen necklace, Cassius believed Ayleen was a manipulative spy. He brought the coworker into their home and paraded her around the master bedroom.
"In this house, you are lower than the dirt on my shoes."
He choked Ayleen, forced her to sleep in a damp storage room, and treated her with violent disgust while pampering the thief.
Ayleen was suffocating in absolute despair. She had lost her innocence, her freedom, and her mother's only relic to a vicious liar. She couldn't understand how this all-powerful man could be so completely blind. Why couldn't he recognize the very scent that had cured his agonizing madness?
Staring at the dark bruises he had just left on her neck, Ayleen wiped the blood from her lip. She would endure this three-month marriage to secure her family's safety, but once the contract ended, she would expose the truth and tear down the fake savior he cherished so much.
7.6
When the Pollard family kicked Alyssa out into the freezing rain, Walter threw a ten-thousand-dollar check into a dirty puddle.
"Take it and get out. Don't ever come back," he sneered.
Her adoptive mother and stepsister stood on the mansion's porch, mocking her as a worthless country girl who tarnished their wealthy name. They laughed, claiming she wouldn't even be able to afford community college and would be begging on the streets in a week.
They looked at her cheap clothes and worn backpack with absolute disgust.
They were completely unaware that for the past five years, Alyssa was the secret mastermind who had built their failing gallery into a multi-million-dollar investment empire.
Every key investment, every fortune they made, came from the anonymous notes she had slipped into their unread books. They genuinely believed they were business geniuses, while treating the true architect of their wealth like a stray dog.
Looking at their smug, arrogant faces, Alyssa didn't feel a shred of sadness, only a cold, sharp irony.
They actually believed they had raised her.
She stepped close, whispered the master code to Walter's most secret offshore account, and watched the blood completely drain from his face.
"I raised you," she said, turning her back on the mansion without hesitation.
Walking into the storm, she pulled out a heavily encrypted phone and gave a single, cold order.
"Initiate a full hostile takeover of the Pollard Group."
It was time to end this little game and step into her true life—as the world's most elusive medical genius, and the long-lost billionaire heiress of the Summers dynasty.
9.3
Chandler was the secret wife of Avery Osborn, a powerful media heir who kept their marriage hidden to avoid the scandal of her illegitimate birth.
After catching him openly flirting with a rival at a gala, Avery mocked her low status and told her she was nothing without his money.
Instead of crying, Chandler immediately signed a zero-payout divorce agreement, left her wedding ring on his glass table, and walked out.
To numb the pain of her shattered life, she went to a notorious underground club.
Drugged by a bartender, she lost her mind and ended up having a wild night with a handsome stranger she mistook for a high-end male escort.
Panicking the next morning, Chandler transferred her entire life savings of $50,000 to the man to buy his silence, then fled to her corporate job.
But at the afternoon executive meeting, her blood ran cold.
The man she had paid off was standing at the head of the boardroom table. He wasn't a gigolo. He was Brennan George, the ruthless new COO of her company.
Cornering her in the women's restroom, Brennan held up a printed copy of her $50,000 wire transfer.
"Wiring a massive sum of cash to your direct superior after a night together is classified as commercial bribery and solicitation," he whispered dangerously.
Chandler was terrified, realizing she had handed him the exact evidence needed to destroy her career and sue her into bankruptcy.
"Marry me," Brennan demanded coldly. "It's the only way to make this HR problem disappear."
7.6
For three years, I played the perfect, docile wife to Brendon Jimenez, desperate for the real family I never had as an orphan.
But during a high-society gala, I peeked through a cracked door and caught him sleeping with my best friend.
When I packed my cheap canvas bag to leave the penthouse, my mother-in-law blocked the door.
She dumped my clothes on the marble floor, called me a stray dog, and slapped me so hard my mouth bled.
Brendon just stood there, watching his mother humiliate me.
To keep me trapped as his perfect public prop, he even faked his mother's heart attack in a VIP hospital suite.
"Get on your knees. Kneel down right now and beg my mother for forgiveness until she decides to accept it."
I gave them my youth and unconditional loyalty, only to realize this prestigious old-money family was nothing but a rotting corpse built on dirty secrets.
I didn't cry, and I certainly didn't drop to my knees.
Instead, I pulled out my phone right in front of him and called my lawyer.
"File for an at-fault divorce. I have proof of his infidelity with Kaelynn Hudson. I want him ruined."
Then, I touched the matte black card hidden deep in my clutch.
It belonged to Kile Barrett, the ruthless billionaire shark my husband feared most, and I was going to use him to tear the Jimenez family apart.